The Magic Word
by Twyla Mercedes
Summary: Just a naughty one-shot tale of what happens when Regina loses her temper with Gold and tells him to "bite me. . .please." He responds to her demand with a request that she perform an intimate action for him . . . please.


**A.N. This was precipitated by an old kink meme prompt. It's a one-shot piece of smut taking place before Regina knows that Gold knows. And it's just naughty and trashy – definitely for the mature reader. txm**

**The Magic Word**

"60,000 dollars. Take it or leave it." He was in no mood to bargain.

"You cannot be serious! I've just had that property assessed and I know what tax-base you're charged for. It's only worth 30,000." Regina was pacing the floor of Gold's pawn shop, her black patent spike heels clicking on the wooden floor. She was furious with him. "You aren't saving the property for anything else. Why would you charge the city twice what it's worth?"

Gold shrugged. "A man's got to make a profit. If you don't want to pay the asking price, then find another piece of property that you can afford."

"You know damn well you own everything out in that area. There isn't another piece of land that's suitable that you won't overcharge for too."

"So it's the only piece that's available and suitable for your purposes." _Now that was useful information._ "Just out of curiosity, what were you planning on doing with it?"

Regina stopped pacing momentarily. "Not that it's any of your concern, but I'm planning on putting a children's playground on the property."

"How delightful," he smiled at her. "Well, dearie, if it's the only piece of land that's suitable, it sounds like I can charge whatever I like. And you can either pay it up or you can give it up." He gave her a tight smile and turned back to his receipts. "Let me know what you decide." He was dismissing her.

Regina was as angry with him as she had ever been _and she had been pretty angry with the man in the past_. She was about to turn, to take herself out of his infuriating presence when, without thinking, her anger taking her over, she spit out, "You bastard, just bite me," and then she added, "please."

"You bitch, just blow me," he replied, with a similar touch of asperity. And added, "please."

_She felt it. She couldn't avoid feeling it. The compulsion. The requirement. The old contract she had stupidly, so stupidly, agreed to. _

_Son of a bitch! This couldn't be happening! She was going to have to come up with something, anything, anything that wouldn't clue him into knowing that the word 'please' could control her, absolutely control her. She would have to be fast. She was already fighting the compulsion to drop to her knees in front of him. This would somehow have to look like it was her idea. She frantically decided on a course of action._

She gave him her most brilliant smile, set her purse on the counter and, as slowly as she could manage, walked around to the back of the counter, where he stood next to the register. She stepped out of her stilettos, kicking them aside. He narrowed his eyes, watching her as she approached him.

Before she even touched him, he asked warily, "What are you doing?"

"Maybe we can . . . negotiate the price." She was still smiling at him when she put her hand behind his head, pulled him to her and kissed him soundly and directly on the lips. The other hand she had dropped to his belt and was gently pulling it out of its loops.

She noted that he didn't seem to be kissing her back, but neither was he pushing her away or telling her to stop. _Oh god, please have him tell me to stop. _As much as anything, he seemed surprised. She dropped to her knees, finishing with the belt, then going after the pants' button and, finally, the zipper.

"Madame Mayor?" he asked curiously, hesitantly. "Are you . . ?" he didn't finish.

"Blowing you, as you suggested." She smiled up at him, sweetly.

"Then kneel here, please," he directed, shifting her over so that she was kneeling under the counter. It gave her cover in case someone should come in.

_Typical of Gold, to do something, anything, to start giving orders again. But there was that damn compulsion._

It had been awhile for her, weeks for sure, since Graham's untimely passing. Who knew how long it had it had been for him. Oh hell, for all she knew he kept shifts of women around to ease his needs, women who owed him something on their rent or a loan and who had to acquiesce to any and all demented demands he might make of them. Or maybe there were women around who just liked banging reptiles.

It only took her a moment, using her blood-red tipped fingers, to remove his cock from his pants. It was still soft, but even at rest was reasonably impressive. _She had always suspected that dear, dear Rumple had probably amplified his own size with magic and likely some of that had transferred into this world. She was actually curious as to what size he would be once he was well and truly aroused. _She glanced up at him and licked her lips. She then began to lick him, starting at the base and going to the head, flicking her tongue back and forth, doing this several times. She wrapped her lips around the head, then pulled back. She began licking him again. _Not too bad. He had a delicious smell. She had forgotten that, but that was a memory that was from so very, very long ago. Definitely male, subtly spicy. _She felt his hands weave into her hair holding her head in place.

"Lift up your skirt to your waist and take off your panties, please," he directed her.

_There was that damn compulsion again. _Without taking her mouth off of his cock, she did as he had ordered, pulling up her snug, tailored skirt around her waist and struggled, from her kneeling position, to get out of her underwear.

"Give me your panties," he directed her.

She did as he had ordered, even though he hadn't said 'please.' _Why the hell not? She didn't have much dignity left with her skirt pulled up around her waist, kneeling on the wooden floor of his shop under his counter with his dick stuffed into her mouth. She felt terribly exposed, nonetheless. And beginning to get a little aroused herself. She usually preferred to be in the driver's seat, but from this position, well, it was go sub or go home. _

He was getting hard. She knew she was getting to him. She began to suck on him, feeling him get larger, for her. It was getting harder to take his bulk down her throat and she had to focus on relaxing to keep herself from reflexively gagging. She began to pump him, using her mouth and her hands, feeling his response, feeling his arousal.

"I would have anticipated black underwear," she heard him murmur. "This frilly pink lace is a nice surprise. More sweet than I would anticipated from you. Hmm. Does the bra match? I wonder. . ."

She heard his little bell ring, the one on the door, interrupting his thought process. _Thank goodness. . . if he had continued with the direction he'd been going. . . _Someone had come into the shop.

"Well, Sheriff Swan. What can I do for you?" She could hear him talking. She momentarily stopped with her attentions, but then thought, _what the hell. _It would be fun to see how well he could control himself. She gave her full attention back to the task at hand, er. . . mouth.

She caught, out of the corner of her eye, that he had quickly put her panties into his pocket, and then felt his hand leaving her head so that both hands were now on the counter, above her head.

"I was looking for Mayor Mills. I had heard she had come in here."

_Yes, that was definitely Sheriff goody-two-shoes prissy pants Emma._

"She did come in a little while ago," he responded, his voice calm and focused, not any hint that she was getting to him.

_And not a word that she hadn't left, was still there, under his counter, servicing him while he talked with her mortal enemy. _

"You don't know where she went, do you?" Emma asked, not sounding like she was expecting an answer.

_The little bitch._

"Well, she left her purse here, so I'm guessing she'll be back." _Not to mention her shoes were still lying on the floor behind the counter._

Regina was taking him down her throat, then pulling back to tease and stimulate the head with her tongue, then back again, struggling to manage his bulk without gagging, without making a sound. _Damn, how was he keeping his voice so controlled?_

"Left her purse? What? Did she leave in a hurry or something?"

_Stupid twat._

"Well, you know how Regina can get her panties in a wad and carry on."

_Now he just sounded smug._

"Lord, yes," agreed Emma.

_Oh, thanks a lot,_ _you little trollop._

Regina suctioned on him as hard as she could, using one hand to reach around to palm one of his ass cheeks. She squeezed the ass cheek, but somehow the man was able to manage remaining still. _Damn, he must have balls of steel. _Hum, she thought. She reached up to cup him, offering him a firm touch, and felt him twitch.

"I'm sure that she's working on some project and will pop back up when she's. . ." _Did he hesitate a moment_? "finished things off," he took a deep breath and continued. "I doubt she'll be much longer. Can I . . . Can I give her a message for you?" _Yes, she was definitely getting to him. _

"No thanks. I'll just catch up with her another time," Emma answered and started out.

_Oh must you go? Stick around for the big finish, won't you?_

"Oh, Sheriff Swan," she heard him call out.

_There it was, a very slight tremor in his voice. She had absolutely gotten to him. _

He had called out to Emma as she walked towards the door of his shop. "Please do me a small favor on your way out. I'm working on a project of my own and" he paused again, "I don't want any interruptions while I. . .eh, come along with it. Could you flip my sign from 'open' to 'closed'?"

"Sure, but what will Regina do when she comes back and sees the 'closed' sign?"

"I suspect that won't be a deterrent for her." He smiled at Emma as she shrugged, turned the sign and shut the door behind her.

Regina felt his hands on her head again. He was very close and began to hold her head in place while he began to push in and out with his hips, fucking her mouth. At this point, Regina couldn't stop herself from gagging several times, trying to contain him, trying to keep her throat relaxed, but finding it difficult to accommodate him. His ignored her discomfort, holding her head in place, and abruptly he began to spasm. In less than a minute, she felt him coming into her throat, forceful, hot and salty.

"Be a good girl," he told her, "And swallow it please."

_Like she had much choice here._

But she did as she had been told.

He stroked her hair, leaning into her and the counter, resting. After a long moment, he leaned down and, taking her by the elbows, lifted her up, her skirt, thankfully, dropping down on its own to her knees. She found herself breathing heavily, as if she'd run a race. She was leaning into him and didn't resist when he took out his silk handkerchief and used it to gently wipe her mouth. He then wiped himself off and adjusted his boxers and pants.

"That was really very, very nice, dearie," He helped her soothe down her skirt. "You need to comb your hair and refresh your lipstick," he directed. She managed to reach over, get her purse and pull out a comb and a lipstick. Still a bit shaky, she was able to comb her hair, but was surprised when he took the lipstick out of her trembling hand, held her head in place with his other hand and carefully began applying the deep red lipstick to her lips. As sensitive as her lips were, his actions were as erotic as if he had been stroking her clit. _Good grief, she was on the verge of coming just from him putting lipstick on her. _When he had finished, he put his finger in her mouth so that she could pull against it and wipe off any lipstick that might get on her teeth. _Which one of his cunts had taught him that trick? _She found herself trying to pull away but being prevented by his firm grasp, his long fingers entwining in her freshly combed hair, holding her still. Feeling heat rise up between her legs, she suddenly recalled that she was not wearing her panties.

"My panties?" she asked him, partially trying to distract him from stimulating her lips.

He shook his head and released her. "Don't think so," he removed them from his jacket pocket and held them up in one hand. "I believe I'm keeping these as a little memento." He replaced them back into his pocket and smirked at her. "I will have some problem believing this actually happened unless I have a little token," he explained.

She looked deep into his dark brown eyes and suddenly shivered. _What if he knew everything? What if he remembered everything? What if. . . ? What if. . ? He would have been playing her, well aware of her vulnerability, well aware of his power over her. This might not have been an accident. _

He was still standing close, so close. He looked back into her eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Maybe we should 'negotiate' more often. I approve of your style. I'm willing to offer to sell the property for 50,000 dollars."

"50,000! That's still way more than it's worth!" She was still quite capable of protesting his greedy, grasping, back-people-into-a-corner-and-give-them-no-choice business deals and struggled to pull away from him. He was having none of it.

"From my perspective that makes what just happened a 10,000 dollar beejer, dearie," he still had her positioned between himself and the counter, standing very closely, his body brushing against hers. _Oh god, he could probably smell her arousal standing as close as he was. _"I guess we could go for actual sex." He ran his hands up her arms, his fingers curling around her upper arms. _She remembered the green-gold hands with their blackened nails and nearly shuddered. He actually seemed to be considering doing her!_ In a banal, conversational tone, he went on, "We could use this counter, but I'd suggest we adjourn to my back workroom. I'd like to do you doggy style, if you don't mind, and I've got the perfect table for you to kneel on," he said, grinning at her.

"I'm not interested," she frantically began to pull away from him, afraid he would use the magic word again and she would find herself on all fours.

She slipped her shoes back on, snatched her purse and began to move toward the door like a scalded cat. She called back to him. "I'll get back to you about the 50,000 dollars."

"I'll insist on cash, please," he called after her. He watched her go, scampering away up the sidewalk, noting that if she could have run in those heels, she would have. _That really had been quite pleasant. _He smiled. _I could go for another one some other time. . . please. _


End file.
